Baby Boy
I can still remember the day Jacob was born. I had always wanted to be a father and when the doctor pulled his crying form from my wife I finally knew it would be a reality. I fought back tears as I kissed my wife and assured her that our boy was going to be alright. We had been trying for three years and Jacob was our miracle. This was a day we had both waited for from the day we were married. We had both agreed early on that we wanted to have at least three children. Karen and I were amazed at what beauty we had brought into this world. “He looks just like you Paul,” she said while stroking his head. Jacob constantly amazed us at how quickly he picked up on things. He was walking by nine months old and began forming clear words by his first birthday. He always seemed to examine the world around him with the most curiosity, focusing on the smallest of details for longer than I think I have ever pondered even the grandest of ideas. Karen and I were certain he was destined to be very intelligent and we only hoped our future children would be the same. It would take a few more years before we would know but we eventually had our little girl. Our first had been named after my father, so in fairness, we named our daughter after my wife’s mother. Mary was a joy from day one, her smile always lit any room she was brought into. Jacob was curious, as usual, always studying his little sister intently. Being almost four, he had learned to articulate himself rather well. His mother found it adorable and gave him small tasks, such as fetching a new diaper or wipes when the need arose. Jacob would watch intently as we bathed his little sister and begged constantly to help but we assured him it was a job for a big person because Mary was still very little and very vulnerable. The first month was spent adjusting to Mary’s personality. It was a stark contrast to Jacob, who had been fairly independent at an early age. Mary seemed to need constant attention, which sometimes left Jacob to himself. Looking back now I wish we had included him more and paid more attention to his needs. The more I think back to those early days I wonder if I could have prevented what would follow. If anything I could have said or done would have made a difference. Jacob might still be my beautiful baby boy. I was buried in paperwork, trying my best to catch up from days missed while the hospital stay. I almost missed the dull vibration of my silenced cell phone in my pocket. It took the call coming through the second time for me to notice it. My hands quickly retrieved it from my pocket and noticed that the call had come from my wife. I did not even take the time to check the voicemail, I just redialed the number. When she answered she was frantic, screaming about Mary, Jacob, and the bathtub. I don’t know how many pieces of paper scattered to the wind as I rushed from my office and at that moment I did not care. I had one thought and that was to make sure my family was alright. When my car pulled into the driveway I had already noticed the flashing lights of the ambulance. My wife had called emergency services as soon as she had hung up with me. The paramedics were leaving our property as I entered and I simply pushed passed them to reach my wife. She sat clutching Mary, kissing her repeatedly while sobbing. Our little girl had been drowned but was resuscitated by the paramedics. I dropped to my knees and hugged them both, tears peeling their way past my eyes. Mary would be fine, but my wife had mentioned Jacob in her call. “What about Jacob?” my voice finally cracked as I started to look up. Karen simply pointed to the hallway where our three-year-old stood watching. Jacob’s eyes were intent on what had transpired. He stood motionless and without a hint of emotion. His lips simply pursed and brows furrowed, almost angrily. Something about this made my stomach turn and I asked her again what had happened. She yelled for Jacob to go to his room and he did, without a word. I begged for an answer and when I received it, I knew why my wife was so upset. Jacob had taken it upon himself to bathe Mary. Our son had filled the tub far higher than we had ever done with either of the children and hoisted his tiny sister over the edge before dropping her into the water. My wife returned from the laundry room a few minutes later to Jacob standing over our daughter, who by this point had stopped struggling and simply lay at the bottom of the white tub. My wife had tried desperately to get Mary to breathe while trying to call me. She had shoved Jacob from the room and she swore that our little boy watched in amazement at how blue Mary had turned. I tried my best to convince her that he had no idea what he was doing but in the moment she would not hear it. Once I had calmed my wife and made sure Mary was safely tucked into her crib, I made my way to Jacob’s room. He was already in bed but he simply sat staring at the wall. I sat beside him and reached out to hug him. He laid his body against me, limply, as I squeezed him. I told him that Mary was going to be alright and that he should not feel bad. Jacob simply leaned back and pulled his blanket up to his chin. I stood and began telling him that his mother and father would need to bathe his sister until she was older and that today was simply a mistake. Then Jacob turned to me and an expression on his face made me feel as though he had something to say. “You going to be alright, bud?” my voice trying to remain soft. “I’m fine,” Jacob replied, again with no emotion. “Mary will be ok, I promise,” I said, trying to smile. “I know,” he responded. Something in his voice prompted me to ask, “Are you ok?” “I will be,” his tiny voice whispered as he closed his eyes. If I had known what Jacob meant by that I might have been more worried. I might have sought help then, but in my mind, it meant he was fine. He had always been so smart and independent. That boy had been able to do everything on his own for so long now that my concern was that maybe he did not fully understand what had happened. I had decided to let him sleep and in the morning I would revisit the conversation and get my wife involved. The following day we sat Jacob down and explained how dangerous his actions were. Our son sat stoic and absorbed our words, much as he always had. He listened intently and stared directly at us. Jacob had always done this with every lesson we ever tried to impart, so we saw no difference in this behavior. My wife was sure we had put the problem to rest and as long as she was satisfied, so was I. We continued with our day and tried to let the horror of the previous one fade away. That was until we started finding the dead animals in our backyard. At first, it was a tiny bird laying limp outside our back door. It was a large sliding glass pane and I thought that the little creature must have just inadvertently run into it. Then it was a squirrel that had most of its limbs mangled. It had been left bloody near our garage and the summer sun had drawn out an awful odor. I tried to fight the nagging urge to confront Jacob but when I found him pulling at the tail of our neighbor’s cat I could hold my tongue no longer. Within seconds I had grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the living room. I sat him on the couch and tried to contain my frustration. “Have you been hurting animals, Jacob?” my voice firm as I stared down at him. “No,” he replied meekly. “Don’t lie to me,” my voice raised slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said without even looking at me. I sent Jacob to his room, unable to think of what to do with him. We had always been so caring with him and the thought of him torturing or killing animals was so unlike any behavior we had taught. I brought it up with Karen that night and though she did not agree with Jacob’s actions, she simply reminded me that he was a little boy and little boys do strange things like that. I did not reply because I did not remember ever hurting anything as a little boy or knew anyone that did. I could not be as calm about the incident as my wife and tried to keep a closer eye on Jacob over the next few months. When Mary was almost a year old my wife excitedly tossed a positive pregnancy test on the table as I stepped in from a day’s work. We hugged each other, squealing with elation. We broke the news to the kids and Mary’s eyes lit up at the thought of being a big sister. Jacob, however, simply stared at us. That same blank stare he gave when he was trying to process new information. I patted him on the shoulder and laughed. My excitement was clear in my voice as I reminded him that he would be a big brother again. Jacob did not seem happy and after a few minutes, he turned to walk toward his room. My wife and I were so confused, he had been so interested in Mary before but now he simply had no interest in being a part of another addition. When we brought Tyler home and placed him in his bassinet, Mary hovered over her cooing baby brother. Jacob sat in the hallway playing with blocks, casting glances toward the commotion within the living room. We all doted on the new baby, all of us, except Jacob. He became more secluded and spent a lot of time playing or drawing within his room. Before he even turned five-years-old he had become a recluse, no matter how much we tried to include him in our activities. My wife had even tried asking for a fresh diaper on a few occasions to be left with blank stares. Mary would always help, however, while Jacob would return to his room. This coupled with the return of the maimed creatures on our property finally drew Karen’s attention. Jacob rarely stayed in the same room as any of us anymore, especially if the baby was around. When we discussed the matter, she brought up the incident with Mary. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was afraid of what might be next and I could not blame her. She made an appointment with Jacob’s pediatrician for the following day and I took off work to be with them both. Our pediatrician assured us that it was normal for siblings to feel a bit jealous when new children were introduced into the home. He gave us loads of facts to support this and though he felt Jacob was an interesting child he found no serious problem with his behavior. When we mentioned the dead animals, the doctor paused for a moment and looked to Jacob. Our little boy simply gave him that same blank stare that we had come to know so well. He assured us that it was just a phase and he would outgrow it but gave us the number of a child therapist just in case. Tyler woke far more than either of our two previous children. It seemed every thirty to forty minutes his wails would echo throughout our house. My wife and I took turns checking on him. He woke so frequently that we knew he could not be hungry but attempted to feed him anyway. When he would not take a bottle we would check his diaper to find it had not been soiled. Eventually, we developed a routine of simply rocking him back to sleep. It was not until Tyler was a month old when we found Jacob standing over his crib, pinching him ever so slightly until the baby began to cry. My wife consoled our youngest while I pulled our four-year-old into his room. My voice was stern but silenced as I attempted to keep from waking Mary. My eyes furrowed as I stressed how important it was that Tyler sleep and that “Mommy” and “Daddy” get rest as well. I pointed out that he should be sleeping at this time of night also. My lecture lasted a good thirty minutes before I noticed that Jacob was simply staring at me again, no reaction, no fear, and no indication of remorse for his actions. Something about this made me angry and I grasped him by the shoulders. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” my voice raised a bit more. Jacob stared back at me for a moment, unshaken by my show of force and all I received was, “Yes.” “Then what do you think you were doing to Tyler?” I questioned. Again, Jacob stared at me for what seemed to drag from moments to minutes, “I don’t know.” The answer wasn’t good enough for me and only served to make me angrier. I told Jacob that if I caught him waking his brother again he would receive a spanking. Jacob returned to bed, pulling up his blanket and closing his eyes. I exited the room thinking of my words. I had never physically disciplined any of my children and I was not sure if I could. I just knew that Jacob could not keep terrorizing his baby brother. As I laid my head upon my pillow, all I could think about was what I would do if this kind of behavior actually continued. I wondered if I could really spank Jacob. This thought echoed in my head until I fell asleep. Over the next few weeks, I kept my discovery to myself and Jacob stopped waking Tyler. The nights of rest rejuvenated my wife, which meant she had no reason to question the sudden change in our baby’s nightly routine. She was simply glad to get a good night’s sleep for the first time since Tyler had been home from the hospital. That also meant she would constantly be grateful for any assistance I provided with the children. It seemed we had come to a point of mutual happiness. That was, except for Jacob. There was something in the way he looked at the baby and me that made me feel as though he was upset that I stopped him from his late hour antics. I tried to let it not bother me and I ignored his constant stares, which only served to isolate Jacob even more. I could tell it upset him but I simply had no idea what to do. The slow decline was so slight that I ignored most of it. I would find Jacob’s blocks seemingly strategically placed in places that I would step. Items of clothing for his younger siblings would go missing. My wife even caught him making “snow” in the kitchen with multiple cans of formula that were reserved for Tyler’s meals. All of this we chalked up to the jealous antics of a four-year-old. Each time we scolded Jacob for his actions but never once did I actually follow through with my previous threat. I still did not feel as though I could, that was until the minor tricks became real. I was startled awake one morning by the sound of Karen’s scream. In my daze, I stumbled from our bed and through the hallway toward Tyler’s room. She stood cradling our baby boy in her arms and I quickly switched on the light. I could hear her crying and drew closer to discern the problem. I stumbled upon Jacob’s pillow and quickly kicked it away from me as I reached out for my wife and our baby. She looked to me, tears filling her eyes as she turned her gaze to little Tyler. I followed her face and when I noticed how still his tiny body was, I fell to the ground. My wife had come to check on the baby after another quiet night of rest. When she approached the crib she found a pillow laid carefully over top of our month old baby. She quickly removed it, slinging it to the floor and picked Tyler up. He had stopped breathing long ago, the pillow smothering out any chance for him to cry out for help. When she relayed this to me I reached over for the bag of stuffing, staring down at the pillowcase that was adorned with firetrucks. I knew it was Jacob's, he had always liked firetrucks. I pulled it to my face and screamed into it, tears pouring from my eyes and soaking the cotton. The cold January air seemed to fit my mood as I stood amongst our grieving family. The funeral was short, almost as small as the casket we laid in the ground. It was a beautiful pale blue that reminded us of his tiny eyes. Tyler had been so full of life, life that would never be realized. My wife stood across from that deep hole in the ground, holding Mary. I leaned over to place a small blue elephant on the casket before it was lowered into the ground. My left hand grasped Jacob's, squeezing it tighter than I ever had. I would not let him from my sight, not for a moment. The authorities labeled the incident as an accident and that’s what our family thought as well. My wife and I knew the truth and she opted to ride home with her mother. I, however, was left with the task of escorting Jacob home. I sat driving down the highway in silence, my eyes constantly looking up to the rearview mirror at Jacob. He stared out the window, unmoved by the events of the day or any before it. I could not hold back my tears but I brushed them away over and over. I tried to focus on the road but I was constantly drawn back to the face of my little boy. I had wanted a child for so long before him. I thought about all those night time baths, diaper changes, tickle-fights, and late-night rocking sessions within his nursery. None of this made sense to me and I just wanted that little boy back that brought so much joy to my wife and I. The salty specks must have been clear to see from the back seat as I tried to figure out what to do or say. Jacob turned to look at me in the mirror with those same glassy eyes, “Don’t be sad." I looked up to the mirror, confusion curling my eyebrows, "What?" "Now it's just us," Jacob said with a smile. I stared back in horror at the boy that sat in my backseat. Jacob simply smiled at me. It was the first smile I had seen since Mary was born, but this was not of happiness. It was sick and just watching him stare at me with those curled lips made my stomach churn. Then my little boy turned back to the window as if he had said nothing to me at all. My mind was instantly filled with confusion. Had Jacob truly known what he was doing? What did this mean? Would he kill any child we had other than him? Is that why he tried to drown Mary? All of this swam in my head as our car passed over a bridge. My eyes shifted to the swiftly flowing water of the river below. A moment of weakness took hold of me and my car came to an abrupt halt on the shoulder. The car fell silent as I turned off the engine and exited the driver’s door. I removed Jacob from his car seat and brought him to the cement guard rail that overlooked the roaring water below. My body shook at the thought of what I might do but a fear in me was more concerned with what Jacob might do if I hesitated. I lifted his tiny body over the barrier, my hands cupped under his arms. I cried more at that moment then I did the day he was born. The vision of his birth replayed in my head again and again as my grip loosened on his tiny body. I was about to release him to the icy waters below when Jacob stared back at me as if he knew what I was about to do and his head tilted slightly. “I love you, daddy,” his voice just as sweet as it had been in years passed as he reached forward for a hug. I hugged Jacob back, telling him how much I loved him. We returned to the car, strapping him into his car seat again. The car ride was still quiet but Jacob seemed pleased with my choice. I tried to smile for him the whole way home. When we arrived Jacob simply returned to his room to play with his toys. My wife was packing her things and what Mary would need. Her voice was a blur as she told me that she would be staying with her sister for a while. I simply nodded in agreement, which seemed to upset her. I don’t think she truly understands the choice I had to make. I know I may have made the wrong one and I constantly question myself, but he’s my baby boy. Category:L0CKED334 Category:Mental Illness Category:Reality